A Quarter A Tale
by Two-Bits
Summary: You killed Dice!
1. Growing Up

This is the story of Two-Bits the newsgirl. Not me. So don't flame me for making myself all high-and-mighty or whatever.

* * *

One little girl stood on the empty streets of The Bronx, clutching at a ratty teddy bear, tears streaking down her cheeks. She'd been crying for nearly an hour, but as no one was there to hear her, her tears reduced to whimpers. When her mother died, her father had tried to drink away his grief. That only got him fired, and all the money he had left was spent on whiskey. He had, of course, blamed it on his daughter, and taken out his anger on her. She had the marks to prove it. Finally, he just took her out and left her in the streets on a cold November day, never to return. Now she stood there, wrapping her arms around her frail body for warmth, without a home, without a friend, without a name. Sighing in defeat, she sat down on the curb, the tears coming once more. She broke down and sobbed into her bear.

"Hush, now. Don't cry," said a soft voice. The little girl looked up into the face of a scruffy street rat—a newsboy—who smiled, kindly down at her. She shied away from him, when he moved his hand, but he simply held it out to her.

Staring up at him, her big blue eyes full of hope, she placed her tiny hand in his callused one. His smile widened, and the corners of her mouth were just about to curve up when a gust of icy wind blew by, chilling her to the bone. The newsie frowned, then picked her up, wrapping his arms around her. She snuggled into his chest for warmth, and fell asleep.

Thus began a new life for Rebekah Anne Jones.

* * *

Rebekah was five when the leader of The Bronx newsies, Peter, called Dice by his newsies, found her on the streets. Dice brought her to the Bronx Lodging House, where she was raised, being doted upon by the newsgirls, and Dice, himself.

"He's like a mother hen," one of the boys, Poker, commented, snickering as he watched his leader play with Rebekah, who was now seven, and had been dubbed Two-Bits.

"I think it's sweet," replied a brown-eyed girl named Slots. Poker made a face.

"You would. You're such a girl." Despite these sort of conversations, there hadn't been anyone this young at the lodging house since anyone could remember, and Two-Bits was at least thought fondly of by all the newsies. Suddenly, the doors were flung open, and in came two newsies, drenched with rain. Dice looked up, and began snapping orders.

"Ace! Get blankets!" He hurried over to the two newsboys, who staggered in, one supporting the other. "What happened, Blackjack?" Dice demanded. The tall, gangly black boy, who was adequately named because he was black, and his original name was Jack, carefully set the other newsboy on the floor.

"It was Queens' boys. Three of 'em," he gasped. "Striker sent 'em. They were just here to have a little fun, they said. Anyway, we got into a fight. One of 'em sliced up Bookie's leg pretty badly," he said, gesturing to the now unconscious newsboy. He was one of the youngest, only twelve, and his leg was bleeding profusely.

"Alright, we'll have a little chat with Striker, but let's fix him up, first. Hey! Bristow! C'mere! We've got a problem! Bookie's hurt!" Dice shouted. Mr. Bristow, the keeper of the lodging house, came in from a back room.

"Sweet Jesus!" he exclaimed, "Speed! Go get the doctor! Hurry!" Speed jumped up and raced off, faster than she'd ever run, for the doctor four blocks over.

"Poker, get some old sheet! Slots! Get water!" The newsies ran around, hurrying to obey. Blackjack got up to help, but Dice sat him back down.

"Don't you move. You need to stay warm." Dice bent down in front of Two-Bits, who was looking scared and confused at the commotion. "Hey, Bits, I need you to go upstairs and get some clothes for Blackjack and Bookie. Do you remember where they are?" Two-Bits nodded, silently, and hurried up to the bunkroom. She returned fifteen minutes later with clean pants and shirts for the boys. The doctor came in with Speed. "Doctor Griggs! It's Bookie, he's—"

"I've already been told," the doctor interrupted, moving swiftly to the boy. A few boys helped him get Bookie into a room, but then they were kicked out. Only Bristow was allowed in the room as the doctor fixed up Bookie.

"Do you think he'll be okay?" Chip asked, voicing everyone's silent question. Dice smiled, encouragingly at her, but the smile didn't reach his eyes.

"He'll be fine, guys. Don't worry about it." Bristow came out, looking relieved.

"He's going to live. He lost a lot of blood, so he'll have to stay in bed for a few days. I trust you all will work hard to keep him there?" There was a chorused nod. "Good. Unfortunately, his leg's been torn up quite a bit. He's not going to walk very well from now on."

The next few days there was an air of half-forced cheerfulness. Everyone wanted to keep up Bookie's spirits. The newsies worked hard to earn extra money to pay for Bookie's board. After a week, Bookie was fine, but his leg was no longer functioning. However, he kept his spirits up, because the next day was his birthday—or the day he declared as his birthday, anyway—and he was glad to be up and about.

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY, BOOKIE!" came a chorused shout. Bookie opened his eyes, blearily, grinning at his friends. They were surrounding his bed, and Two-Bits, whom he was very fond of, was holding a brand-new crutch for him to walk around on.

"Let's take a walk, Bookie," Dice said, smiling. Bookie nodded, and climbed out of bed. Chip steadied him while he tucked the crutch under his arm, taking a few experimental steps. Thanking his friends, he followed Dice.

Bookie didn't come back.

* * *

"Dice! Wake up, Dice!" Two-Bits exclaimed, tugging at the Bronx leader's shirtsleeve. "C'mon, wake up!" Dice groaned and buried his head in the pillow, ignoring the ten-year-old newsgirl. "Dice! You promised you'd take me to Manhattan!" she whined. Dice stuck out his head and glanced at her.

Big mistake.

She widened her blue eyes, and twirled a strand of blond hair around a small finger, her lower lip stuck out in a pout. Dice never could resist that face.

"Alright, alright," he grumbled. "Gimme four seconds." She squealed with delight and bounded off just as Bristow came in to rouse the other boys.

"Two-Bits got ya?" he said, knowingly. Dice nodded, glaring, half-heartedly, at the excited little ten-year-old.

"She used her damn angel-face." Bristow laughed.

"Come on, boys! UP! Your leader's already up, thanks to his angel! You lazy lot gotta get up too!" The newsies grumbled and cast dark looks at the morning-happy man, but they crawled out of bed, pulling on their clothes.

"Come ON, Dice! Youse takin' FOREVER!" Two-Bits exclaimed, coming out of the bathroom to see that Dice had only just climbed down off his bunk.

"Alright, alright! Hold your horses!" He got dressed, quickly, and followed the ecstatic girl out the door.

They walked to Manhattan, to the distribution apparatus. "Still here, Skipper?" Dice called, when he spotted the Manhattan leader. Skipper turned and a huge smile broke out on his face.

"Hey, Dice! How's it rollin'?" he asked, grinning at his own joke. Dice laughed.

"Pretty good. Two-Bits wanted to see Manhattan, so I thought we'd sell over here today," Dice replied. Skipper looked down at the scrawny girl, and rolled his eyes.

"This is the little angel I've heard so much about?" He laughed. "You got a soft spot for scruffy ten-year-olds." Two-Bits looked up at him and gave him her angel-face. Skipper winced.

"That would be why." Skipper grinned.

"Ah. No wonder. She could woo quite a few of my newsboys with a face like that! So, anyways, let's get our papes!" Dice and Two-Bits followed Skipper towards the gates of the apparatus. "Heya', boys! Dice has decided to grace us with his presence, today, and he's brought along Two-Bits, so be nice!" Dice nudged Two-Bits forward, and she smiled, shyly, up at the newsboys, who were examining her, curiously.

"So, let's see…Ah, Snitch! How 'bout you show her the sights?" Dice glanced, nervously, at the newsboy who stepped up. He was maybe a year older than Two-Bits, but he looked nice enough.

"Don't worry, Dad," Skipper teased, "Snitch is a nice boy, and he promises to have her home by twelve. Snitch, show her around, sell your papes, and meet us back at Tibby's at noon." Skipper and Dice got their papers and went to sell, and catch up.

"Well, c'mon, goily. Let's go. Whaddya' wanna see first?" Snitch asked, hefting his papers over one shoulder. Two-Bits looked around, thoughtfully, slipping her hand into Snitch's, as she did with everyone.

"Um...Central Park!" she exclaimed. Snitch grinned. Central Park was his favorite place to play.

"All right. Can you keep up?" he asked, shifting to a stance in preparation for a run. Two-Bits grinned.

"I run with Speed all the time. She lives up to her name," she replied. Snitch laughed.

"We'll see," he said, and he took off running, Two-Bits chasing after him.

In the end, Snitch beat her, but only by a few steps. Two-Bits slipped her small hand into Snitch's once more, and they started walking through the park, Snitch hawking headlines, while Two-Bits looked around with wide-eyed amazement.

"Hey, Snitchy! Who's the goilfriend?" someone called. Snitch looked around, blushing. It was two other newsboys, one tall and gangly, age twelve, with curly golden locks, and one was shorter, with shaggy blonde hair, a red bandana around his neck, and an over-sized cowboy hat.

"She ain't my goilfriend, Cowboy," Snitch muttered.

"She's holdin' your hand, Snitchy. Ain't dat what goilfriends are supposed tah do?" Cowboy replied, grinning, cheekily. Two-Bits shook her head.

"Nu-uh. Poker and Slots are boyfriend and goilfriend, but dey don't go around holdin' hands!" she shot. Cowboy and the other boy looked at her, as if surprised she could talk.

"I am ten, Cowboy," she said, coolly. The two boys looked even more surprised.

"You'se _ten?_" the other boy exclaimed. She nodded. Cowboy snorted.

"You look like you'se _five!_" Two-Bits frowned.

"Well, I'm _not!_" So get over it!"

Thus began the beginning of Two-Bits's soon-to-be-notorious sarcasm.


	2. Fight

Shoutouts!

Unknown-Dreams: Ah, the power of the angel face.

Kid Blink's Dreamer: Did you just coo? Weird. ((grin))

Pancakes: Your pen name is making me hungry...

* * *

"What's going on?" Two-Bits groaned, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes. Newsies were running around the bunkroom, hurriedly getting dressed.

"Dice is in a fight!" Slots exclaimed, yanking on a jacket. Two-Bits shot up out of bed, toppling off of her bunk.

"A _fight?_" she exclaimed, grabbing for her boots. "With _who?_"

"With Striker! From Queens!" Slots replied, before dashing down the stairs. Two-Bits followed, quickly, sliding as she hurried outside. She pushed through the crowd, her small size aiding her as she squeezed between cheering and jeering newsies. She reached the edge of the circle and gasped.

Dice was circling, walking opposite a tall, black-haired newsboy. This was obviously Striker. Both had their fists raised, and Two-Bits was pleased to see that a beautiful shiner was forming around Striker's left eye.

Dice stopped walking, and a hush fell over the crowd. There was a suspenseful silence, and then, in an instant, both boys lunged. They met in a clash of snarls, insults, taunts, and, most importantly, fists, both boys punching everywhere they could reach.

The fight wasn't long, or very eventful, until the end. It looked like Dice would win this fight. He flipped Striker over, pinning him to the ground, and raised his fist—

—and froze.

There was complete, and utter silence. It seemed not even a bird was whistling. Dice looked down at his stomach, and gasped.

Stuck, four inches into his belly, was a knife.

"BASTARD!" Two-Bits shrieked, running to Dice's side. Striker pulled the knife out of Dice, and stood up, pushing Dice's body into Two-Bits's arms.

Tears began to streak down her face as she held Dice, her leader, her friend, her _brother_, in her arms, stroking his hair. "Dice," she sobbed, clutching at his hands.

"Anyone else want to challenge me?" Striker said, cockily, grinning and waving the bloodied knife around. No one said anything; they were still shocked at their leader's sudden death. "No?" he taunted.

Two-Bits stood up, and lunged at the older newsie, hatred clear in her eyes. "NO!" Slots and Poker grabbed her by the arms, holding her back. "He'll kill you!" Striker turned his gaze to her.

"That's right, little girl. I will kill you. There's no use fighting me," he said, coldly, still grinning. She glared at him, shrugging her friends off of her.

"Maybe you will, Striker," she said. "But if you kill me, it will only be as I am killing you." She did not wait for a response, but shoved through the crowd, and left The Bronx for good.


	3. Meet Spot

Shoutouts!

Unknown-Dreams: I know! I was so sad! But I had to kill him off. It's vital to the plot! I'll make him a muse or something.

Ghost!Dice: YAY!

...yeah.

Pancakes: Suspense is my middle name, miss-grin- Actually it's not, but whatever.

Nosilla: Aww...Every time I hear that, I think of this adorable picture of Itey. It's SO cute!

* * *

"That sonuva bitch," Two-Bits muttered. Though she was fighting a heroic battle with her emotions, she was losing, badly.

Tears were streaking down her face as she stumbled, half-blind, through Brooklyn. It was when she came to the docks that she lost it.

Two-Bits collapsed onto a crate and buried her face in her hands. She broke down, trying to choke back her sobs. She was in Brooklyn, and if anyone saw her crying, she was bound to get harassed, if not worse. On cue, and arrogant voice drawled, "Hey, goily. What're you doin' cryin' on my turf?"

"S-sorry," she stammered, cursing herself. She sounded weak, but frankly, she _was_. Dice had raised her, had been her older brother. And now he was gone.

She stood up and glanced at the speaker. He was taller than she was, with a short torso, but very long legs, and he was pale, as if he had a bit of Irish blood in him. In his hand was a black, gold-tipped cane. What was most striking about him was the icy blue color of his eyes. He probably would be liable to be cute, if Two-Bits was not so distressed.

"Hey, why are you crying?" he demanded, reaching out and placing a hand on her shoulder. She brushed him off and began walking away, not really sure where she wanted to go.

"Just leave me alone," she muttered, turning away. His anger flaring, he grabbed her shoulder and spun her around.

"Hey! Do you have any idea who I am?" he demanded, and arrogance in his voice resumed. She shoved him in the chest.

"No, I have no idea who you are, and I really don't _want_ to know," Two-Bits exclaimed. The tears had stopped flowing, and now she was seething with anger. "Just get lost."

"Well, for your information, I'm Spot Conlon, _leader_ of the Brooklyn newsboys," he said, straightening his shoulders. At the word 'leader,' Two-Bits's anger vanished, and her mind flashed back to only half an hour ago. Snapping out of her reverie, she turned back to Spot.

"All right, King Spot. We've established who you are. Now, if your highness will permit it, I'm leaving," she said, scathingly. She gave a mock-bow, turned on her heels, and began to cross the Brooklyn Bridge.

"Hey, I just want to know what your problem is," Spot said, hurrying to catch up with her. Two-Bits rolled her eyes at his rather annoying habit of switching between arrogance and nicety.

"My problem is you," she replied. He grinned, cockily.

"How on _earth_ did I know you'd say that?" She was not amused. "All right, what happened?" he asked, subduing his cockiness for her sake. She growled.

"None of your damn business," she muttered. He sighed.

"Do you have a place to stay?" Spot persisted. She snorted, making no attempt to hide her contempt, and quickened her pace.

"Nope," she said, shortly. Now Spot's interest was peaked.

"But youse a newsie, right?" he continued, struggling to match her pace. She nodded, curtly. "What borough?"

"No borough."

"Well, you have to have a borough," Spot said, chuckling, and struggling to keep the mood light. She was obviously upset, and it was his job to find out why. She's obviously never been on Brooklyn grounds before. "I take it you just left?"

"Yes," she said, stiffly, and Spot heard a satisfying crack in her voice. Now he was getting somewhere.

"Were you thrown out?" Two-Bits shook her head, not trusting herself to speak. "Well, then why are you crying?" Two-Bits whirled around to face him, her patience fully tried.

"Look, I don't know what your problem is, but just leave me alone! I'se can take care of myself, and I don't need some annoying Brooklynite pestering me about t'ings dat don't concern him!" she snapped. Spot took a step back. Two-Bits continued walking.

"Well, why can't you tell me?" he nagged, after a moment's pause. She sighed, closing her eyes, briefly. Then she opened them once more, and her blue eyes were fiery with anger.

"All right. You want to know what happened?" Spot nodded, eagerly. "I'm from The Bronx, and my leader, Dice, just got _gutted_." Spot's jaw dropped.

"By who?" he demanded.

"By that bastard Striker from Queens," she snarled. Spot grimaced at the name "Striker."

"Wow. Okay, well, I take it you're not going back to the Bronx," he said, quietly. She gave him a look that said, 'How stupid are you?' He nodded. "Right. Well, come with me. You can go to Manhattan."

"Manhattan?" she said, memories coming back from when she was younger. Spot nodded. "Is Skipper still in charge over there?" she asked, smiling in fond memory of him. Spot shook his head.

"Nah. He hooked up with some sailors. He always said that's what he wanted to do. He's somewhere down in Mexico," Spot replied. "Jack Kelly took over. He's real good with the kids, and the boys like him. He's an old friend o' mine."

"Yeah, I 'member him," Two-Bits chuckled. "I back-talked him when I was younger. He didn't like dat too much." Spot laughed.

"Yeah, his ego went down a bit over da years. Not much, mind you. Here we are," he announced. They were standing in front of the Manhattan lodging house. Spot opened the door with his usual 'King of the World' attitude. "Hey, Jack! I've got a newsie for you!" Two-Bits stepped in after him and gasped.

"_Bookie!_"


	4. Old Friends

Kid Blink's Dreamer: I'm not stopping ANYWHERE!

Slightly: Except the end.

Shut up, Slightly. Quit being stupid.

Slightly: I thought that was your job? 

Nosilla: I know. I'm so bad.

Scamley Elliot: The beginning HAS to be kind of rushed, because I didn't want to go through eleven years in excrutiating detail. But don't worry. I'll slow down once she's settled in.

Outsider Wolf: Bravo! This part takes place about two or three summers before the strike. So they're around fifteen.

Unknown-Dreams: Yeah, he's only just been made King of Brooklyn. He hasn't really gone into "cool" mode.

* * *

Spot gave Two-Bits a funny look, but she ignored him. Bookie was sitting on the couch. He had been chatting with another newsie, a tall Asian boy in a pink undershirt. He looked surprised at being called Bookie. He stared at Two-Bits and scrutinized her, trying to recall where he had seen her before. 

"Bookie, it's me! Two-Bits!" she exclaimed, taking a few steps forward.

"Dat ain't Book—" Spot began, but Bookie cut him off.

"Two-Bits!" he exclaimed, standing up. She nodded, then rushed forward, hugging him, tightly. He handed his crutch to the Asian boy and hugged her back.

"Have you been here this whole time?" she asked, looking him over. He looked healthy, and he seemed to be getting around well on his crutch. He nodded.

"Dice took it should be brought, not took me here to stay with Skipper. He figured it was best. They call me Crutchy around here. How is Dice? Still leader?" he asked, sitting back down. The Asian boy moved, and Two-Bits sat down next to him.

"Bookie…Dice isn't…He's…" She wiped at her eyes, furiously, frustrated at how to explain it. Crutchy tilted her chin up, his brown eyes full of concern.

"Bits, what happened?" he muttered. She shook her head.

"Striker happened. Showed up this morning."

"Crutchy growled at the mention of Striker's name. Striker had been the one who had damaged his leg.

"He challenged Dice to a fight and…won. Gutted him. He's in charge now. I left." Crutchy gasped, slightly, and ran his fingers through his curly hair, looking shocked.

"Dead?" he whispered. Two-Bits nodded. "Joik!" Two-Bits smiled at that. All these years, Crutchy still had the mouth of a ten-year-old.

"How do youse two know each other?" asked a familiar voice. Two-Bits stood up and faced Jack Kelly, who had just walked in. She smirked at him.

"I'se Two-Bits. 'Member me? I'se the ten-year-old dat looked five." Jack's eyes widened in recollection.

"I remember you. Youse was the smart mouth!" Two-Bits laughed.

"Yeah, I was dah smart mouth."

"She needs a new borough. She can't come to mine 'cause I'se don't got any goils. I figured she could come hea," Spot said by way of explanation.

"Sides, I can't stand him," she laughed. Jack looked her over, then shrugged.

"I suppose you could. Come on and meet everybody."


	5. New Friends

Shoutouts!

Kid Blink's Dreamer: Indeed she is! You can't have a story without The Snitch! Say hi to the boyfriend for me, huh?

Scamley Elliot: YAY! New homes are great, eh?

Nosilla: Ooh, you're good, aren't ya?

Unknown-Dreams: Happy...like...? Well, aren't we eloquent...

Slightly: You screwed it up.

...What?

Slightly: You ended every shoutout with a question mark until you got to Unknown-Dreams! _Gosh..._

...You've been watching WAY too much Nappy D!

* * *

"All righty, then," Jack said, stepping into the bunkroom of the Manhattan Lodging House. "Goily, dis is—"

"My name is Two-Bits," she interrupted, glaring at him. Jack shook off her comment, but he looked annoyed at being corrected. He was, after all, the leader, and this new girl had no right to talk to him that way.

"Yeah, shoah thing. Anyway, guys, dis is Two-Bits. She's from da Bronx. She's a friend o' Crutchy's, and she'll be stayin' wid us for a liddle while." In a mutter to Spot he added, "But not for long if she don't learn respect." Spot made a mental note to take her aside and talk to her later.

"Bits, these are the guys. I'd introduce you myself, but there's too many of them," he said, with a prideful gleam in his eyes. Two-Bits tried not to roll her eyes at his obvious attempt at proving his superiority by way of his newsies. But, of course, she failed.

"She just rolled her eyes atcha', Jack!" a newsie exclaimed. He was short and skinny with brown hair that had obviously been cut either by himself or by one of the other newsies. His bangs were uneven and too short. He gave her a grin, revealing a missing front tooth. "I'se Pie Eater."

"Two-Bits," she said, as if he didn't already know.

"So…Who's she going to sell with?" another asked. He was stocky and broad-shouldered, with curly black hair and a sweet face. "I'm Mush," he added.

"I dunno. Whoever can take her, I suppose," Jack said, thoughtfully. She scowled at him, but he conveniently looked the other way. "How 'bout Snitch? You were the first of us to meet her, if I recall correctly," Jack said with a teasing grin. Snitch made a face.

"Yeah, I remember. She can sell with me, but I'm not paying for her papers! I can barely get by on my own!" Snitch sighed.

"Who's this?" asked a new voice. A brilliantly female voice. Two-Bits almost collapsed with relief. She turned around, suppressing a smile.

"Boomerang, dis is Two-Bits. She's from Da Bronx," Spot introduced. Boomerang was a few inches taller than Two-Bits, with brown hair that had been messily cut off at the shoulders and gray eyes. She noticed the badly-suppressed grin on Two-Bits's face and said, "Cowboy's been bothering you?"

"Yeah." She leaned over a whispered, "He's in arrogant-mode." Boomer chuckled.

"Goily, he's always in arrogant-mode. But don't worry. A couple o' goils like us could probably whip him into shape."

"Hey!" Jack protested. The girls laughed, and Two-Bits knew that when she counted her blessings, having Boomerang around would be at the top of her list.


	6. Rise And Shine

Shoutouts!

Kid Blink's Dreamer: Hey, it's every newsie for himself.

Unknown-Dreams: AMEN sista'!

kaitins: A new reviewer! -throws party-

Slightly: What're you doing?

...Throwing a...party...?

Slightly: Well, stop.

-pouts- _Fine._

Margie Driscoll: -sob- I know! I liked Dice! But I had to kill him. Otherwise, the story wouldn't have progressed.

sheepshead-jockey-4: Another new reviewer! -throws party-

Slightly: Don't you listen at all?

ShortAtntionSpaz: -GASP- You didn't _review!_ Aha. How many times have I been guilty of that?

Slightly: One thousand two hundred ninety-four.

...Shut up, Slightly.

Nosilla: Don't even worry about it, Nozzy. I suck at Math. 2+2PHISH!

Pancakes: Yay!

* * *

"Rise and shine, Boomerang!" Two-Bits called, shaking Boomer's unmoving shoulder. Boomer let out a loud, "get-away-from-me, I'm-sleeping" groan and refused to roll over. "Boomer, get up right now! It's time to sell!"

Boomerang heaved a sigh and rolled over to glare at Two-Bits. "What the heck are you doing up this early?" she demanded. Two-Bits rolled her eyes and pointed to Kloppman, who was yelling at Boots to get up. The poor boy was having trouble.

"It's time to go selling. I need to do something today. And I have a feeling it involves getting out of bed and _moving_," Two-Bits explained. "So, let's _go!_"

Boomerang rolled out of bed, dragging half the blankets down with her, and landed on the floor with a _thud!_ "You're one of those morning-happy people, aren't you?" she muttered.

"Have been since the day I was born!" Two-Bits exclaimed proudly, half-skipping off to the sinks. She began to brush her teeth, thoroughly.

"I _hate_ morning people," Boomer breathed.

"What're youse so happy about?" Racetrack grumbled, standing in front of the sink opposite Two-Bits.

"I've lived another day," she said seriously. Racetrack didn't reply; he didn't know how to. "And I like to sell! I like to get out in the world!"

"Well, I'd say it's a good thing. It would be hard to be a newsie if you didn't like to get out in the world," Racetrack replied.

"No kidding."

"How long have you been a newsie?" Boomerang asked, watching as Two-Bits sold yet another paper. She had almost sold all fifty of her papers.

"Since I was five. Dice took me in and raised me on the streets of New York. I know The Bronx like the back of my hand." She winced at the name 'Dice.' "Anyway, I just put on my 'angel face' and sell a few papes."

"Angel face, huh?" Boomerang said, skeptically. Two-Bits nodded.

"The blonde hair and big blue eyes helps," she added, twirling a strand of sunny-blonde hair. "I just keep clean, and people think I'm a lot younger than I really am." An elderly couple walked by and she called, "S'cuse me, ma'am. Would you like to buy a paper?" She widened her eyes and gave a charming smile. The old woman smiled back and accepted the paper, dropping a penny into her hand.

"Thank you very much!" she chirped, and turned away from the couple. "See?" Boomerang glared at her.

"I'm not selling with you anymore," she mumbled. Two-Bits laughed.

"C'mon. Just try it," she encouraged. Boomerang raised an eyebrow at her.

"Do you _really_ think that I could pull of an angel face?" she asked. Two-Bits paused to take in Boomerang's slouched shoulders and "let the whole world drop dead" attitude.

"No."

"Thought not," she said with a smirk.

"Well, look who the new goil is."


	7. Striker

Woot! Chapter seven is live! -dances-

Slightly: Stop that.

-stops- Party pooper.

* * *

Two-Bits looked around and almost died from shock. Standing before her was none other than Striker. Furiously, she hurled towards him, but Boomerang grabbed her around the waist, pinning her arms down. 

"Hey, easy Bits," she muttered into her ear. "We don't want trouble."

"You_ bastard_," she hissed. "You killed Dice!" Striker smirked.

"He asked for it," he said carelessly. Two-Bits' eyes narrowed. "Anyway, what d'you care anyway? Apparently your loyalties weren't too strong, seeing as how you're selling under another newsie."

"I am no traitor!" she snapped.

"You are as far as I'm concerned. I took over Dice's newsies," he replied, grinning at her furious expression. "I'll be back for you."

"Not if I get you first," Two-Bits snarled back. Striker chuckled and walked off. When he had disappeared in the crowd, Boomerang released Two-Bits, who was steaming mad. She was muttering curses under her breath, just loud enough for the passing buyer to hear and walk off indignantly. Boomerang looked at the last of her papers, which she had dropped on the ground as she held back Two-Bits, and grimaced. By Murphy's Law, they had landed directly in a puddle. She picked one up. The ink was running already.

"Great," she snapped at no one. Two-Bits looked at the ruined papers.

"I'll buy you lunch," she said, apologetically.

"All right, let's go to Tibby's," Boomerang sighed. The two started walking back to town.

"What's your problem?" Snitch asked, noticing Two-Bits' bad mood.

"I don't want to talk about it."

"Are you hungry?" he ventured.

"_No._"

Snitch opened his mouth again but Boomerang glared at him. He backed away. Boomerang turned back to Two-Bits.

"We've got to tell Jack," she said. Two-Bits looked up and Boomerang almost winced at the death glare she was being subjected to, all trace of angel-face gone.

"No."

"Bits, we _have_ to. Jack's the leader. If one of his newsies is being threatened, he's gotta know!" she insisted. Two-Bits shook her head.

"I've been here a day, Boomer. I'm not one of Jack's newsies. Anyway, Striker's busy with the Bronx newsies right now. If he comes after me, it won't be for a while."

_But when he does, I'll be ready._

"All right," Boomerang said reluctantly, not liking the determined look in Two-Bits' eye. "I won't say anything. But if anybody from Queens shows up, I'm telling Jack, all right?"

"Fine," Two-Bits said. "Now, can you take me to Brooklyn?"

* * *

SHOUTOUTS

Garen Ruy Maxwell: You totally should! 'Tis fun.

Gryffindor's Newsie: You guessed it! Actually, I couldn't remember who the voice was, so I made it up. Now that you mention it, I think it was supposed to be the Delancey brothers, but I don't really like this story so I'm making it shorter.

Unknown-Dreams: Too true. Angel face requires mad skillZ yo.

Slightly: Fo'shizzle.

Queen of Doom: Thank ye kindly.

Lil Irish QT: Yeah, it was s'posed to be the Delanceys, but I forgot.

Kid Blink's Dreamer: I never was a morning person until this past school year. Now I wake up at like, eight at the latest. Eurgh.


End file.
